Sod's Law
by DeniseV
Summary: or, With All That Bad Luck Should McKay and Sheppard Really Remain in the Pagasus Galaxy? It's just a question.


"What time izzit?"

Dr. Rodney McKay sighed. It was at minimum the fourth, but more likely the fifth or sixth time that the colonel had asked the question. Rodney really had stopped counting; keeping track just seemed to piss him off more. Normally, thinking about numbers soothed the sometimes savage beast in McKay, but not this time.

They'd been exploring this planet, a friendly, peaceful, enjoyable visit in every possible way when a sudden and torrential rainfall caught them unawares. Well, McKay had pointed out the dark clouds, but…

The team had spent a good deal of time with the villagers, enjoying the game of 'kick-ball' that the older children, including Dr. Carson Beckett and Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, had been playing. It was very much like soccer, and while everyone else finished munching on the wonderfully tasty spread that the Chanterelles, yes, like the mushroom, had prepared for lunch, the 'children' played their game.

Carson's team won, by a large margin.

Beckett, Dr. Elizabeth Weir and Teyla Emmagen had remained with the villagers, finalizing the trade agreement. Carson had stayed to work with the village healer to better understand some of the herbs and other plantings that they used for wound care and other purposes. He also discussed some of the medicines, supplies and equipment that the Atlantis expedition could provide to enhance the amazing natural remedies that the Chanterelles had successfully developed.

Rodney was bored, as was the norm when a mission provided no science to enthrall him – or anything dangerous to keep him otherwise occupied. And the other activity that might have occupied his time – kick-ball – that just wasn't the Canadian's game. He had found a kindred spirit in his boredom in the person of Ronon Dex.

John had grabbed Rodney, with Ronon following behind, and said, "Let's go scout the hills over there to the west."

"Why?" Rodney asked as he rose, or rather, was dragged from his seat not far from the food.

"Because you've eaten too much and can use the exercise."

"And how would you know? Between ogling 'Pamela Anderson' over there and then getting beaten soundly by Carson, Carson Beckett," he emphasized, noting in his tone how incongruous such a result seemed, "one wonders how you would have found the time to notice."

"I'm always watching out for my team, McKay," Sheppard answered as they headed out of the village.

The three men walked at a comfortable pace, enjoying the spring-like weather in the heart of the Chanterelle's harvest season. The landscape was mostly rolling hills close by the village, a substantial river making the valley lush and understandably fertile. As they walked, the terrain grew progressively more severe as the foothills neared. The variety of lush green before them, with the slopes of the hills leading to more abundant rises and then on to the mountains on the horizon, made for an aesthetically pleasing jaunt. A well trod pathway kept them on a steady course upward.

At least Sheppard found it pleasing.

"How far are we planning to go on this total waste of time hike?" Rodney asked.

"Can't you just enjoy the fact that we can actually have a nice stroll without having to worry about Wraith attacks, or whack-job Genii, or weird 'Ancients' playing with our minds, or even weirder alien technology messing with our heads?"

The all-too-recent memory of the Asurans as well as the hallucinations of Afghanistan that followed too quickly after that, and worse, the fact that shooting McKay and Dex was 'not' a hallucination, these events were clearly still painfully fresh in the mind of Atlantis' military leader. Somehow, Rodney seemed oblivious to that fact. He was far too interested in the present.

"I would if I didn't know for a fact that that ugly cloud over there is planning to use my head for target practice."

"You really are paranoid," Ronon said to the astrophysicist's back.

"Is that so?" McKay asked, stopping in his tracks and turning to speak directly to his larger teammate. "As though Sheppard wasn't kind enough to remind us of our recent unpleasantness, need I remind you of what I consider to be the longest stretch of bad luck ever encountered? In any galaxy? I am fully prepared to iterate the list," he added. Ronon cut him off.

"If you iterate to me, I may have to hurt you," the Satedan said as he put his hands on McKay, forcibly turned him back around and pushed him in Sheppard's direction.

"Threats will not endear you to me," Rodney said as he moved to catch up with the colonel.

"I don't need that," Ronon said. "I'm about as close to you as I want to be," he noted. "Plus, I've seen how you react to threats and dangerous situations. You're not as much of a wimp as you let on."

"Wimp? What do you mean by that?"

Sheppard grinned at the conversation going on behind him. Despite their very different personalities and backgrounds, Rodney McKay and Ronon Dex had indeed managed to bond, and had developed a relationship with a closeness that only enhanced the effectiveness of his team. He was pleased yet remained surprised that the newest member of that team had grown so fond of McKay, the non-stop bickering notwithstanding.

Unfortunately, once again McKay was right. The dark cloud had grown darker, and the wind had picked up substantially from the mild breeze during their picnic in the valley.

"Okay, let's head back," Sheppard directed as he turned back toward their departure point. He could see the village now as it nestled in the expansive valley below; they had climbed higher and gone much farther than he'd thought. There was no way they weren't going to get drenched. And there was no way McKay was going to let him off the hook for making them get stuck in the downpour.

"Good call, oh wise and wooly meteorologist," Rodney said sarcastically as the first large and heavy raindrops slapped him in the face.

"Nice," John said with a wince, knowing that this comment was just the beginning. "Turn around and head back. Remember, you catch cold easily." McKay turned quickly and followed Ronon's lead.

"Dr. Weir, this is Sheppard. Do you read?" Silence was his answer. Too high up, too far out of range, too much rain. So totally screwed.

It didn't take long for the big drops to become sheets of rain. Walking became treacherous, and thus making good time back was out of the question. Ronon had forged slightly ahead; Sheppard lagged just a few paces behind McKay when the earth beneath their feet shifted. Ronon was safely on a flat rock ledge and hadn't felt it, but McKay and Sheppard both slipped down the hill. Immediately, mounds of muddy ground followed.

"Damn it!" John tried to push Rodney out of the way, but the mud had already trapped them both. McKay fell and Sheppard struggled over to help him. Ronon yelled Sheppard's name and the colonel called back, "Stay where you are!"

As John reached Rodney, a large tree branch tumbled into him, cracking loudly on his head. He slumped over into McKay, instantly unconscious. Rodney did the only thing that he could: he held John's head against his chest as he watched the rain pool on his team leader's neck, tinged red from the blood now flowing freely from the wound. Free like the rainfall that continued unabated.

Rodney could feel them moving down the slope but he was now packed in solidly in the muddy mess, Sheppard's weight pressing him further in.

"McKay! Sheppard!" Rodney heard Ronon Dex yell from above, though he was barely able to hear over the noise of the rain slapping the leaves on the trees and splashing on the ground. He tapped his comm and replied.

"Use your radio," he said loudly through the wind and rain.

"Shit. You okay?" Ronon asked. The big man's vocabulary had become decidedly Sheppard-like these last months.

"No. Not okay. But Sheppard's worse. He's unconscious."

"I'm comin' down," the Satedan warned.

"No! No, you cannot come down here. Things are shifting as I speak. You need to get help. Rope. Whatever." The earth moved again. "Lots and lots of rope."

"Right," Ronon replied. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Get what you need from Carson," Rodney instructed.

"I'm on it. Hang tight," the former Runner added.

Yep, definitely Sheppard-esque.

So that was how McKay and Sheppard ended up sitting in, or rather, mired in mud and with the colonel not remembering why they were where they were and asking incessantly about the time.

"Oh, god," Rodney said, leaning his forehead on the back of John's. A soft 'Ouch' forced the scientist's head back up. "Sorry," he apologized. He knew he now had John's blood on his forehead. He was growing tired as he tried to keep his back firmly glued to the sharp outcropping of rock; it was all that kept them from hurtling down with all that mud, and trees and shrubs and small rocks that had been caught in the deluge. He tried to keep his head leaned forward; the jagged rock hurt his head and neck…his head would be very unhappy getting the same treatment that his back was currently suffering.

They'd been in this holding pattern now for about fifteen minutes. Rodney's legs were feeling numb, the weight of the wet earth, and Sheppard, combining to cut off his circulation. He had absolutely no chance of getting out of this slop by himself. He knew that he and the colonel would have to wait for help in order to get out of this mess.

John had a lot of mud over him as well, and they were stuck in an unfortunate position, with Sheppard pretty much sitting on McKay's lap. They were both facing the same way so Rodney had been unable to do the standard neurological checks that Carson had shown them to perform after a serious head injury. The first check was already unnerving: Sheppard wouldn't wake up, no matter how much Rodney asked or how much he prodded. What Rodney knew for sure was that John was bleeding a lot and that getting hit like that had to really hurt. And he knew it could be bad if John didn't wake up soon.

What he didn't know was what was taking Ronon so long.

The colonel wiggled a little, trying to get up. This was good, Sheppard waking up, except that it wasn't, because he was moving way too much. Rodney grabbed him around the chest and said, "Sheppard, take it easy. Ronon went for help." Though they were lucky to have landed against the rocky wall, it wouldn't take much to toss them from their precarious perch.

"Wh…where are we?" John asked, still struggling.

"Will you sit still?" Rodney asked angrily. He had tried to remain calm, but the continued rain, the pain, the frustration, and not least the mud oozing into places where mud had no right to be had brought the astrophysicist right to the edge.

"I'm glad you're waking up, but you really have to stop squirming," McKay instructed.

"Let go!" John yelled. Rodney was about to pay the price for John's continued disorientation. Sheppard struggled some more, his head slamming hard into Rodney's face. The scientist's head, in turn, whacked into the sharp rock behind him.

McKay's vision briefly tunneled to disconcerting darkness, though the lights came back on quickly. He stayed conscious, barely, because there was something he needed to do, quickly, if he really was going to pass out.

"Fuck!" Yeah, that was it. That felt better. Then McKay squeezed Sheppard tighter and shouted into his ear, "Stop moving! I didn't see it, but I'm fairly confidant that we're slipping 'downhill' for a reason, like having a mean, nasty drop just behind us. Gravity, have you heard of it?" He paused as John seemed suddenly still. "Are you hearing me?" he yelled.

"You'd have to be deaf not to," John replied, sounding pretty damned close to normal Sheppard to McKay's ears.

"Oh, thank god," Rodney said, easing the left side of his head onto Sheppard's. His face hurt way too much to try resting that again.

"Ow," John said quietly.

Rodney shot his head up, momentarily forgetting about the colonel's cracked skull and that it probably wasn't the most appropriate thing to use is as a pillow. He also forgot about the fact that he had just hit his own head on something very hard. They suddenly seemed to be spinning down the slope again, at least that's how it felt to McKay. Rodney felt himself tipping. He squeezed John tighter – it was the only thing he had any grasp on that might help stop his fall.

"Rodney, you okay?" Sheppard asked as he pushed back into McKay's chest. He leaned in the opposite direction that McKay was heading. Their boat seemed level again, at least temporarily.

"We need help," John said.

"Yes. Yes, it would seem so," Rodney said tiredly.

"Are we getting help?" John asked cautiously. "I assume Ronon and Teyla are…." He paused.

When nothing further came from his friend and team leader, Rodney shook him lightly and said, "Teyla wasn't…" John cut him off.

"I know. I remember now. Ronon went for help." He leaned heavily into McKay, as though the effort of remembering, or the gratitude that he did remember, had drained all of his energy.

Rodney patted John's chest. "Yes, he did. And he should be back soon. So we should just sit quietly, NOT MOVE," he continued firmly and loudly, "and wait for our lifeboat." McKay's head was killing him, his legs, well, he wasn't really feeling them, and trying not to freak out about that was taking an enormous toll on his already frayed nerves.

"Are you okay?" John asked.

"My head and my face both hurt, thanks to you," Rodney answered with brutal honesty. "My legs, well suffice it to say that you and half a mountain aren't doing them any good."

"You can't feel them? I can try to move," Sheppard offered, though his body heavy against McKay's told the scientist that it was an empty offer, which suited Rodney just fine at the moment.

"If you do, I promise you I will hurt you, or get Ronon to do it for me," he replied, the joke clear but the meaning even more so.

"What happened to your head and face?" John asked.

Rodney sighed. His head and his face hurt, but is neck was really getting the worst of it as he tried to keep his now bruised and bleeding head off of the sharp rock. His body started to tremble from the effort, though he doubted that was the only reason.

"Let's just say you got a little too rambunctious earlier and rammed my head into the one thing that's holding us in place."

John stayed quiet for a few seconds and then said, "Sorry."

"It's okay," Rodney countered. "You didn't mean it."

"I'm also sorry for not turning back earlier."

They both remained quiet, listening to the rain. Rodney didn't reply; John wasn't sure that he'd earned anything from McKay this time. Rodney looked up after a while, and John put a hand out. The rain was slowing dramatically.

"That's good," John said.

"Yeah," Rodney agreed.

"Sheppard? McKay?" It was Ronon over the comm.

"Ronon? This is Sheppard. Where are you?"

"It's good to hear you. McKay said you were unconscious."

"I was. How far out are you?"

"We are within five minutes of your location," Teyla Emmagen answered. "Are you well?"

"I wouldn't say well, but we're alive and holding on. Did you bring help?"

"Colonel, we have the Chanterelle's rescue team with us," Elizabeth Weir interrupted. "These flash showers are a regular occurrence, and they have a team ready for just this situation."

"Lucky me," Rodney said irritably.

"It is rare that they have these so late in the harvest season," Elizabeth added warily.

"Yes, that is because I have," and Rodney raised his voice to make sure everyone with a radio could hear, and anyone nearby without one, "THE WORST LUCK IN TWO GALAXIES."

"Settle down, McKay," John said, turning the radio off.

"Fine. Then let me ask this." He turned his radio back on. "Elizabeth, isn't it dangerous for you to have come?"

"Actually, Rodney, no. The rain didn't get down to the valley, and it's eased up substantially from what Ronon described."

"Oh," McKay said, and then added bitterly, "Of course it has." He took his hand off of Sheppard's chest briefly and pulled the colonel's jacket up. He reached in and pinched John's arm hard.

"Hey! What was that for?" he asked.

"What was that for?" McKay paused so that John could catch up and understand what that was for and then he said into the radio, "Can we get this rescue underway, please?" His voice cracked at the end and it was clear that though Rodney was putting forth a brave face, he had taken about as much as he could bear.

"What are your injuries?" Carson asked. "Should I come down to check you out before we move you?"

Rodney put his chin down tiredly to his chest and shook his head. Carson Beckett, chief medical officer for the Atlantis expedition, and good friend, probably should come down and check for that. But McKay was pretty sure that there were no injuries so severe that they warranted risking Carson's or anyone else's lives. This rescue was going to be complicated enough as it was. Apparently, Sheppard was thinking the same thing.

"Why don't you send down some cervical collars?" the colonel asked. "We'll do our best to put them on. They're just sending down rope and a harness, right?" There was a minor delay before they received an answer.

"Yes, John. Sobel, the head of the rescue team says that's the only way," Weir finally answered.

"Okay, then let's get this show on the road," Sheppard ordered.

"I'm not crazy about this," Carson Beckett argued.

"Neither am I," John and Rodney shot back together. Smiles ran through the group of rescuers, and they got to work.

"Great minds, eh McKay?" Sheppard received no answer. "McKay?" Still nothing. John took his hand and reached back, flicking mud toward Rodney's face. "McKay, you okay?"

John felt a shiver course through his friend and then he heard a quiet, "Thanks, because I didn't think my blood, your blood and the mud already covering my face truly told the story of how shitty my day has been. This," he shivered again, hard, before continuing, "This will be the 'pièce de résistance' that will definitely sell it better."

It was good to hear the sarcasm, and Rodney was surprisingly good with accents, but the trembling was new and most likely indicated shock. Sheppard didn't like it.

"Collars?" John yelled quickly into his comm, only to look up and find the first one dangling in front of his face.

"We're almost outta here, Rodney," he told his teammate as he handed the collar back to him. McKay took the collar; John took note of the man's freezing hands. Into the radio he said, "Okay, I think McKay here is a little shocky."

"I'm fine," Rodney insisted.

"I say you're shocky. I'm going to make sure McKay gets his collar on and then a harness, but you'll have to pull me out first to get to him."

"I am right behind you. I can speak for myself," Rodney complained, a massive, uncontrolled tremble overtaking him and forcing him to stop talking. His teeth chattered and he conceded, "Okay. I don't feel so good."

Sheppard's instructions were followed and within ten minutes both men had been pulled up to the security of the rock ledge. Beckett worked on both of them and then each was placed in a hand-built but efficient travois and carried back to the village. They stopped only briefly so that Carson could check on his patients and for Elizabeth Weir to thank their hosts for the food and relaxation and the unfortunate rescue, and to say their goodbyes for the team.

Thirty minutes later Carson was beginning a thorough examination of both mudslide victims.

"I only hit my head," John said in an effort to downplay his injury and get out of the infirmary.

"You were unconscious for five minutes at least, disoriented for just as long. And a tree hit you!" Rodney testified, making sure all of the pertinent points were covered. McKay himself was being stripped of his filthy, sodden clothes, shivering uncontrollably. That didn't stop him from talking this time. The nurse placed a thick, warm blanket over him. "Oh, and you slammed me in the face right where the tree hit…aah," he gasped, pushing his head back into the pillow, but regretting that movement as the wound on the back of his head protested.

"McKay?" John asked worriedly.

Carson looked sadly to his friend and then back to Sheppard. He said softly, "He's startin' to get some feelin' back in his legs. Pins and needles," he added, knowing that John would understand the reference.

"Shouldn't you go to him, then?"

"I'm almost done with you," Carson admonished. "You were the one who was unconscious, need I remind you?"

"Well, Doc, you probably do. I mean, I wouldn't actually remember being out, would I?"

Carson bit his tongue and continued. "You'll be heading for an MRI, just to make sure there's no swelling. Lay back and rest. The technician will be taking you soon." Beckett tucked the blanket up to Sheppard's chin and then stepped over to McKay. John figured he was lucky the physician didn't strangle him with the warm, thick cloth.

"Rodney?" The scientist was breathing fast, the feeling in his legs very painful as it came back. "I'm going to clean up your face."

"Carson, isn't there anything we can do about this…nnnhmm." He didn't finish, and sweat was forming on his brow and above his upper lip. "This…aaah…this is a lot like hyp…hypothermia."

"I'm sorry. It does feel that way. I need to check your nose and your head, and then perform some neuro checks before I send you for an MRI, too. By the time we're ready for the scan, I'll be able to give you a very mild sedative, but that's all for now."

"Okay."

Carson knew his friend was hurting badly when he only offered the one simple word in answer.

Several hours later, both men slept peacefully in adjoining beds in Carson Beckett's infirmary. The Scottish doctor had just upped Rodney's pain medication as he had noticed, even in sleep, that his Canadian friend was still uncomfortable. When he'd finished with McKay he moved to Sheppard, checking the readings from the monitors, and making notes on his handheld chart.

"How are they?" Dr. Weir asked as she came into the room.

"They'll be fine, Elizabeth. Sheppard has a moderate concussion. I'll not want him back on active duty for about a week. Not even paperwork. Just rest."

"We'll do what we need," she noted.

"Rodney will take a little longer to recover. That pins and needles sensation was particularly bad for him. The MRI showed some swelling on the lower part of his spinal cord. I think he hit the wall harder than he thought. He says he doesn't remember doin' it, that he was too worried about the colonel and keeping them both from suffering the 'fate of the Pompeiians', as he described it."

"That sounds like Rodney, both in word and in deed," she smiled.

"Aye. His concussion is minor, and he suffered a split lip, and as you can see, some serious bruising when the colonel butted him in the head." Weir winced at the deep purple marks at McKay's face, nose and cheek.

"We always thought John Sheppard was hard headed. Now we have the proof," she said, the joke not really meant to be funny.

"They both suffer that affliction, thank goodness. He's pretty exhausted from the whole ordeal and his spine will need some time to heal. We'll see how he is in a week, and then I'll probably let him work half days, along with some PT for the following week."

"All because Rodney and Ronon were bored," Elizabeth said, shaking her head.

"I'm not sure you can blame them for this," the CMO admonished.

"I'm not. Not really. But they should maybe learn to be patient during these kinds of events. I think that I speak for all of us when I say I hope we have more meetings like this, not less."

"Yes, but asking for Rodney and Ronon to practice patience is like asking John Sheppard to develop a better sense of direction, and maybe for him to take a lesson in the meaning of dark clouds in the sky."

"Point taken." Elizabeth smiled, knowing that Rodney suddenly excelling in patience and John adopting great directional skills were about as likely as them never having to face the Wraith again.

"Once again, our premiere team is out of action," Weir said, frustration and worry evident in her tone.

"I guess if you consider the risks that they are asked to take, the chances are higher that they would show up here more than your average team."

Weir looked at Carson pointedly. "This wasn't one of 'those' missions."

"No," he agreed. "No it wasn't. Chalk it up to plain old bad luck, as Rodney says?"

"Or Murphy's Law," she countered.

"We call it Sod's Law where I come from, and good heavens, I hope it's not that. At least a person's luck can change. Murphy's Law? Well, maybe we should just pack up and head back to Earth."

Elizabeth smiled again. "All right. I'll side with you on the luck thing. That means, then, that we must be due for a change soon, right?"

Carson didn't answer as he patted her arm. His smile faded from his face as he left the room and headed to his office.

The End.


End file.
